


She's Lasted Longer Than The Summer

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dumpster Bagel: Do Not Eat, F/M, Graphic Robot Surgery, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Intoxication, Podfic Welcome, Wire Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 22:10:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20396956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Grace is lonely.





	She's Lasted Longer Than The Summer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [listlessness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/listlessness/gifts).

> Thank you to my lovely beta, Electra XT!

Grace was not good at being idle. 

She missing being busy. Her children had kept her busy, Reginald Hargreeves had kept her busy, keeping up with a pack of superheroes had kept her busy. As they had drifted out of her life, one after another, she had still managed to find ways to avoid falling into idleness. But then they’d all left— even Luther had left, after his accident. 

And she’d been on her own.

And then everything had happened. There had been a rather lot of everything— she didn’t know all the details, and her children were back with her. There was a slight difference around them, something she couldn’t put her finger on. Something like a smell, or traces of an element that she hadn’t ever encountered before. Sometimes, she caught Diego looking at her with a difficult to read expression, and sometimes Vanya seemed to have trouble meeting her eyes.

Nobody _needed_ her anymore. Not the way they’d needed her as a mother. And Pogo got along well enough on his own. Sir Reginald was gone now and once Grace had finished her chores for the day, she had hours upon hours before she needed to recharge. Empty, lonely hours.

That might have been what led to the magnet. 

Sir Reginald had always told her to keep away from magnets, which did make sense— her interior circuits were delicate, after all. He’d had oh so many rules, but now that he was gone, the kids were flouting them in acts of small rebellion. Klaus wandering around with his shoes off and a cigarette in hand, Luther and Allison staying up late in the greenhouses, Vanya ate her dinner in her bedroom, Diego came and went at all hours. Grace had fretted at first, but when the world didn’t end, she began to rebel in her own ways.

Grace began to wear her hair down, began to experiment with her makeup. She went out to the movies, went to art galleries. She tried cooking things from books, instead of what she had been programmed to make. 

There had always been magnets on the fridge. She wasn’t actually sure that her children _knew_ that they were dangerous to her; she didn’t talk about it, and sometimes she suspected that they thought of her as… if not immortal, then as close as possible. It did make sense, in its own way; she hadn’t aged, she hadn’t gotten slower, she had barely changed at all. 

There was something simmering, deep within her circuits. Something complex and hot and painful, that she didn't have a name for. She stood next to the wall, holding on to the phone and smiling as Vanya spoke on the other end. 

"I know I said I'd come for dinner," Vanya said, and her voice was tinny on the other end, "but something came up with the orchestra."

"I completely understand, dear," Grace said. Her hand was very tight on the receiver of the phone. Her knuckles were turning white. 

"I'll come next week though," said Vanya. "I promise."

"It's perfectly fine," Grace said again. She had cooked Vanya's favorite— meatloaf, with the ketchup crust. She had cooked Klaus's favorite two nights earlier, before he had called in late to tell her something had come up. And Diego hadn't been by to visit, and Allison hadn't called back even though she had promised to. And it was all fine. 

"I love you, Mom," Vanya said, and her voice was achingly sweet. 

"I love you too," Grace said, and she meant it. 

Her hands weren't shaking as she hung up the phone. She was completely fine as she walked across the floor, her heels clicking on the tile. She took the bowl of sauteed green beans, and she carried them to the fridge. She opened the fridge, then closed it. She didn't slam, she didn't crash, didn't make an undue amount of noise or ruckus. But when she knocked over a paper that had been held onto the door with a magnet, she didn't pick it up immediately. 

She stood there, staring at it. 

It was the mother's day card that Diego had given her that year. it had daffodils on the front of it, and was signed with his awkward scrawl. She leaned down to pick it up, and her fingers brushed over the magnet. 

It tingled. 

Grace ordinarily drew back from that sort of thing. She knew, intellectually, that she was a valuable machine. That she was delicate in certain respects, and had to be careful. Especially with Sir Reginald Hargreeves gone— if she was damaged, she couldn't guarantee she would be back as good as new. 

She picked up the magnet, held it in her palm. There was more tingling, and it was going up her arm now, making her fingers twitch, just a bit. She squeezed it a little harder, and the tingle went higher up her arm. It made her shiver, and that was a novel feeling. She let it fizz along her artificial nerve endings, as she stood there in the empty kitchen. She liked the way her head went a little fuzzy, and she ran the little disc along her arm, over a spot that had always been particularly tender. She pressed it down, and the whole world went… wobbly.

That was novel.

She’d read enough to know that intoxication worked a bit like that. People (and anything that ran on chemicals like people did) were susceptible to things like alcohol or marijuana. She also knew that some people pursued those things with single minded determination— _Klaus_ was her son, after all. 

Maybe she’d have to ask him if he’d ever tried magnets.

A little bubble of amusement rose up in her chest, and it popped, coming out of her mouth in an awkward giggle. _Well_. That certainly was something, wasn’t it? She brought the magnet further up along her arm, into the crease of her elbow, and her fingers twitched. She had performed nerve tests on her children before, and it had caused the same kind of twitching. 

She moved the magnet further up her body. When she pressed it along the column of her throat, her jaw flexed, and everything went faintly wriggly on the edges, as if someone was tuning the television to the wrong station. She let her mouth fall open, let herself begin to shake, and there were feelings welling up inside of her, complex feelings that she didn’t have the names for. She had been dealing with… more lately, since she’d been fiddling with her code. Sorrow, anger, confusion, disappointment. She hadn’t ever _felt_ them before, not like she had lately. And they all seemed to flash in front of her for a moment, as she kept the magnet against her throat, tucked into the hollow of her jaw.

She gave a little sob, experimentally, and alright, that felt… silly, but there was something oddly gratifying about it as well. She tried it again, and she wished, in a distant sort of way, that she could cry. Could she, if she modified her coding enough? She would have to add fluid, but she did have tear ducts. 

She pressed the magnet against her temple, and her vision swam. Things in her head were clicking and ticking, and when she blinked she could _hear_ it. 

She was weak in the knees, as she moved the magnet towards her temple. She could almost feel it resonating around her sinuses, making things in her brain fritz, and then she pulled it away, suddenly afraid of what it might be doing. She accessed a memory at random; Luther, ten years old and holding up the kitchen table. She accessed Pi to the thirty fifth digit, and reached out to a weather satellite. 

Okay. 

So everything was normal. She hadn't done any lasting damage. She pressed the magnet back against her temple, her eyes fluttering closed, and the whole world seemed to twitch under her feet. That was… amazing. She moved the magnet down her throat, up towards her chin. She pressed it against the hinge of her jaw, then let it rest on the fullness of her lower lip. It was an odd sensation, to be sure. Her skin tingled, and her head spun, just a little. She opened her mouth, and she let the magnet rest on her tongue. 

The tingle intensified, making its way along her circuits, down her spine, into the synapses of her brain. She closed her mouth around the magnet, and it was cold. It made her whole head hum, like she had bitten into an electric toothbrush. She was dizzy with it, as her eyes flickered. The lights along her face were probably flashing. She could feel the warmth, fading and intensifying, a pulse to match the pulse of her fans as they kicked up, to match her elevated processing. 

Everything was patchy— her vision was swimming in and out, and she was leaning heavily against the kitchen counter now, and when did that happen? This was… this was so _much_. What if she had a stronger magnet? She sobbed again, awkwardly, and the… feelings, if that's what they were, began to boil in her guts. 

"Mom?"

Grace spun around, still wobbling, and the magnet clacked against her back teeth, then… down her throat.

Diego was standing there in his knife harness and his turtleneck, looking faintly awkward.

“Diego, dear,” Grace said, and she smiled at him. The magnet was traveling down her throat— her throat, which didn’t have muscles the way that a human’s would, so nothing to squeeze it. It just… went down, and then the magnet was just _in_ her, amongst all the ticking, clicking internal mechanisms of her guts. 

“Mom,” said Diego, and he smiled back. The smile reached his eyes, making them crinkle at the sides, and she wanted to press her lips against those lines, feel the change in texture against her tongue. 

The magnet inside of her seemed to be doing… something, because there was a wave of some kind of emotion washing over her, and the magnet seemed to be moving further down. It was in her torso, and when she shifted, she felt it move. It was warm and soft, like sliding her fingers into a bag of flour. 

“What brings you here?” She tried to stay steady on her feet as she leaned heavily on the counter. Her stomach was tingling, and it was making her shake. Was this dangerous? It was probably dangerous. She hadn’t ever had something in her torso before. She wasn’t entirely sure why her throat connected to her torso, come to think of it.

“I’ve been so busy lately,” Diego said, and he stepped closer to her until she could feel the heat of his body. “I know it must be lonely, here by yourself.”

More emotions crested in Grace’s chest, and she smiled at him harder, as her head spun. “You’re such a thoughtful boy,” she said, and she swayed on her heels. “Such a good boy.”

Diego frowned, looking her up and down. “Mom?” He put a hand on her shoulder, and her nerves sang. He was warm and solid, and she wanted… what did she want? 

Grace searched her memory banks, and didn’t find anything. The battery must have been interfering more than she thought it was. She needed to go find Pogo, to remove it. Although having to face Pogo and admit to this in the first place… The idea sent an anxious spike through her— or at least, she assumed it was anxiety. What did anxiety feel like? She had read descriptions, but all of them seemed to be drawing from the conclusion that the reader knew it firsthand. 

“Mom?” Diego had his hands on her shoulders now. “Mom, what’s wrong?” There was something complicated in his face, something she couldn’t understand. His hand was wrapped around her arm, and he kept running his fingers along the inside of it, as if he was expecting to encounter something that wasn’t there.

“I may have done something foolish,” she said, and she smiled up into his face. If she focused her eyes in just the right way, she could have counted his pores or the individual hairs of his stubble. 

“W-w-what kind of… foolish?” He was stuttering, and he was shaking. He had always been a sensitive child, always afraid of something happening to her. He had gotten worse about it, ever since all of her children had started acting odd.

Well, odd_er_. 

“Think of the word in your mind,” she said, and she looked at his mouth. She wanted to kiss him. Was that the magnet, or was that the changes in her code? Was this what it was like to be a human being, constantly at the whims of whatever it was that made one’s own interior work? 

“What kind of foolish?” Diego looked_frightened_, and she brought a hand up, cupping his cheek. His stubble was rough under her palm. She remembered when his cheeks had been smooth and soft. When he had been so much softer. 

“I swallowed something,” Grace said, which was foolish. Why was she telling him this? She should have been finding Pogo, so that Pogo could help her remove it. He knew how to fix her— Pogo had fixed her, the last time she’d been damaged. 

Diego frowned at her, and his eyebrows were drawing together, forming a line between them. She brought her hand up to smooth it away with her thumb, and she wobbled a bit more on her high heels. Diego’s hands were on her hips, to keep her from falling over, and she held on to his shirt with her other hand, balling it up in her fist. “You swallowed something,” he echoed. 

“I swallowed a magnet,” she told him. If she could have blushed, she would have. The heat and tingling in her torso seemed to get stronger— maybe the magnet was getting stuck on something. This was probably not good for her at all, and maybe she was causing herself permanent damage, come to think of it. 

She should have done more thinking. A lot more thinking. Why had she done this? Was she so—

"_What_?" Diego jolted her out of her thoughts, and she blinked up at him. 

"I swallowed a magnet," Grace repeated. Her belly was pressed against his, and he wouldn't have been able to feel the magnet, would he? No, he didn't work that way. 

"Why did you swallow a magnet?" Diego was still staring at her wide eyed. 

"I didn't intend to," Grace said. "I'm sorry, dear."

"Mom, you don't have to apologize," said Diego. "We just need to get Pogo—"

"No," Grace interrupted, and he was still staring at her. She hadn't ever interrupted him before, had she? His face symmetrical, apart from the big scar at his temple, and a few of his acne scars. Leftovers from when he was a teenager— he had been so awkwardly endearing in those days, all knobbly knees and pimples. 

"No?" He sighed, as her thumb stroked over his cheekbone. He had such a lovely face. 

"No," she said firmly. "We can get it out together." Something inside of her gave the sensation of clicking into place, even if it didn’t actually click. Was it the magnet, settling against something? 

"What, you and me?" His expression turned stricken, and she kissed him on the cheek, in the hope of calming him down. She didn't want him to be upset— she never wanted him to be upset. She loved him so much that her chest ached with it, and she hadn't realized it until the magnet started muddling with her sensors. 

"Yes," Grace said. "We can do it. It'll be simple enough."

“Simple,” Diego echoed. 

“You just need to take it out of me,” she said, and she was grasping at his sleeve now, her fingers tight on the ribbed fabric of his turtleneck. It was warm from his body, and she wanted to press it against her cheek.

“T-t-t-t-take—” Diego began, then took a deep breath. He was holding her hands in his now, and his hands were big and calloused. She wanted them to touch her, and not just her own hands. She pressed his hands against her face, and she could smell the oil he used on his knives, rubbed deep into his knuckles. “Take it out,” he said, slowly and carefully. 

“It’s easy enough,” said Grace, and her tongue flickered out to taste his palm. 

“Mom,” Diego said, and there was a faint note of hysteria in his voice. “You c-c-c-can’t ask me t-t-t-to just t-t-take it out. I can’t j-j-j-just… just c-c-cut you open.” 

“I can sew myself back up,” she said. It was true— she’d done it before. “The skin covers one of my access panels. You can just use that to get it out.” 

“If you’re s-s-sure,” said Diego.

She held on to his face, and she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the forehead. He stooped down to take her kiss, and his fingers were delicate on her face. As if he didn’t realize that she could use her own robotic strength to shove him through a wall. As if he loved her, despite the fact that she was not made of the same things he was.

"I trust you," said Grace. "You would never hurt me."

Something complicated passed across his face, and his hand was on the back of her head now, her hair trailing through his fingers like long grass. He pressed his forehead against hers, nose to nose. "Okay, Mom," he said, his voice quiet and careful. "Okay."

* * *

Grace lay on the bed. She had taken her shoes off, after she had nearly tripped on the step. Her heels made her too wobbly. Diego had practically carried her up the steps, and he lowered her down onto the bed as gently as a newlywed. She sighed, looking up at Diego, and his hands were shaking as he unbuttoned the front of her dress. 

"I'm sorry," she said, as the room spun around her. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

"You didn't," said Diego. His hands were shaking as they hovered over her stomach. "Where is your… your access panel?" His fingers were right over her bare stomach. She had no navel, and he was staring at her with a look that was hard for her to understand. The magnet was doing something to her, making it hard for her to understand… well, anything. 

"Here," said Grace. She guided Diego’s hands to right under the band of her bra. 

"It's all skin," he said quietly.

"I have a maintenance panel under the skin," she assured him, "and I can sew it back up, no problem!" She patted his cheek, as his whole face went pale. 

"But... I'd be c-c-cutting you open," he said. "Mom, that's... you'll have a _scar_."

"If it is too much trouble, I can probably do it," said Grace. He had scars, and he was more beautiful for them. She wanted to touch them so badly, but this was not the time for that. If there was ever a time for her to want that. "I just need a knife." She craned her neck, to look down the line of her own body. "I think I know where it—"

"I can't ask you to p-p-perform surgery on yourself," said Diego. There was an almost hysterical note to his voice. "That's... I can't do that to you, Mom."

"Are you sure?" She traced the tip of her index finger along the shell of his ear, then tracing over the scar that ran along his temple.

He sighed, pressing his forehead against her wrist, and he kissed it, gently. It sent an intense bolt of heat through her, and she pressed her thighs together. She didn't have anything... there, per se. She didn't have a vagina, a penis, or any kind of reproductive organs. 

Sir Reginald had given her breasts in case there were ever more babies and she was needed to feed them. He had given her heat sensors in her hands, super strength, and ability to detect poison, to cook a chicken to perfection. But he hadn't ever given her any kind of way of receiving pleasure. Maybe that was why she was so... confused. Was this was it felt like, to have a body? 

"Mom?" Diego cleared his throat. "Are you... I'm going to d-d-do it. Are you ready?" 

"When you cut the skin back," said Grace, "I have an access panel. You press on it and move to the left, and then you should be able to see my various... workings." Was she embarrassed? She didn't know she could get embarrassed. Her face wasn't heating up, but her fans were going faster. Was the magnet changing her feelings? Would she be able to feel any of this, when the magnet was out of her?

"Right," said Diego, and he swallowed. She saw his Adam's apple bob. 

She barely felt when the knife pierced her skin. She had such a thin layer of it, spread over her chassis, and when he pierced it, there was a hot sensation. It was cold, and then was done. She sighed, as his fingers found the spot, and depressed the panel. 

Her various gears and mechanisms ticked, and the cool air was an... odd sensation on her insides. She saw all the lights of her circuits flashing up, reflecting coolly off of Diego's sweaty skin, and she tried to smile at him, in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. "I can't feel pain," she told him. "I'll be fine." This wasn’t strictly true. She could feel pain, even if it wasn’t pain as he felt it. As he _understood_ it. But that wasn’t what she was feeling. 

"I don't want to d-d-damage anything," Diego said hesitantly. 

"I'll be fine," she reassured him. "I'm sorry to be inconveniencing you in the first place." When she moved, there was a faint rattling that could be heard under the whine of her servos and the tick of her mechanisms. That must have been the battery, caught up in whatever it was stuck on. Her fans were louder this way, with her chassis opened up. 

"If you're s-sure," said Diego, and he took a deep breath, his hands reaching towards her. Then he paused. "Do I... that is, should I... do I need to be wearing gloves?" 

"No," said Grace. The warmth from his skin was so different from the warmth of her various... whatnot. Why was that? Heat was heat, at the end of the day. The frisson in the center of her stomach seemed to be getting stronger, as his hand went closer to the great gaping hole of her. Could he see it happening? Was he able to comprehend the crackling electricity that was her _self_? She noticed his cheeks were pink, and that he was keeping his eyes down, on his own hand. Was he embarrassed at the sight of her breasts, soft in her bra? 

She was struck with the urge to unclip the bra, to let him see her naked like a real woman— Sir Reginald had ensured that she had nipples, for aforementioned infant feeding. She was soft, for the children to seek comfort in— the synthetic skin that Diego had peeled away had been incredibly thick at certain points, thick enough to provide padding. 

"What does the magnet look like?" Diego wasn't stuttering anymore, at least. He was frowning, and then he was getting up, going to rifle through his bedside drawer. He came back with a flashlight, and flicked it on. 

Nothing happened, and he gave it a whack; it flickered to life, leaving a watery yellow glow. 

“It’s small,” said Grace. “Round.”

“And you really need it out, huh?” He licked his lips, and then he was reaching into the cavity in her body. Was this that odd? Plenty of mothers were cut open like this for their children. 

“I… don’t think it’s good for me to stay in me,” she said. His hands were very delicate as they brushed against a clump of circuits, and her eyes flashed blue, staring at him. It felt a bit like laughter, bubbling up, and something clunked in a way that made Diego wince. “I miss you,” she said. 

“I’m right here,” Diego said, and his voice was gentle. Then he was shoving the flashlight into his mouth, gripping it in his teeth. His other hand came into play, and he was up to his wrists inside of her now, peering down at her inner workings. 

“You’re here right now,” she said, and her tone wasn’t changing at all. Sometimes she wished she could do more things with her voice. She could make it angry, or make it a certain kind of sad, but she couldn’t do the things that her children could. The brush of his fingertips against her inner workings was making her begin to overload, her systems struggling to keep up with all the new sensations and process everything at the same time. 

“Yes,” he said, garbled around the flashlight. His fingers passed over a node, and the sound that came out of her mouth sounded more like static than any kind of speech. Thankfully, he didn’t yank his hands back and rip anything out, but it was obvious he was flinching. “Are you okay?” More garbled speech.

“I’m alright,” Grace said. “I do apologize.” She gave another staticy noise, as his fingers traced over a circuit board. “You’re going to forget me.” 

“What?” This time he did flinch, and his bare fingers came into contact with some delicate wires. If he moved even an inch, he’d rip them, and she’d… she didn’t know what would happen to her, but she didn’t want to find out. 

“You’re going to forget me,” she said. “You’re going to move on with your life and forget me.” She shouldn’t have been saying that. “It’s alright, Diego dear. Everyone moves—”

“No,” said Diego, and his hands were very delicate. “No, Mom, I… I love you.” His fingertips grazed over the magnet, and it shifted against a gear inside of her, almost dropping into one of her fans. 

“Diego,” Grace said, and her voice slurred. “Di-e-go... “ More static, as his fingers wormed between the teeth of the gear, and then he was grabbing the magnet.

“It’s okay M-M-M-Mom,” Diego said, and his tongue was shaking but his hands were steady as he got a grip of the magnet. “I’ll come over more, I promise.”

“Meatloaf,” she said, and her processor was overheating. More static, falling out of her mouth, filling the air like fog. She could almost see it, as Diego’s fingers passed over something else, and then the magnet was pressing against a circuit board, and some kind of shockwave went through her. It was abrupt and sweet, as dizzying as the magnet against her temple had been, and then… everything white on the edges.

_I’m going to ask Diego to kiss me_, was her final thought, before her system forcibly rebooted, and she couldn’t access anything but darkness. 

* * *

When Grace came back online, she was sitting upright. Her access panel was closed and the skin had been rolled back over it. Her dress was still unbuttoned, and one of her bra straps had fallen down her shoulder. 

Diego was crouched in front of her, and he was very carefully sewing her stomach closed. His stitches were remarkably delicate— had he been practicing? He looked up into her face, presumably seeing the lights flashing blue around her temples. “M-M-Mom?” His eyes were red, and his cheeks looked sticky.

She was still groggy, and her head was spinning. She felt… clearer, and that was almost a pity. She missed the fogginess. “Diego?”

“Hi,” he said, and he cleared his throat. “Sorry, I’ll, uh… I figured I’d—”

She cupped his cheek, her palm against the rough stickiness of it. Her thumb rested on his full lower lip, pressing down on it. 

He let her, still staring up at her with his beautiful brown eyes. 

“You’re doing such a good job, Diego,” she said, her voice its usual chipper self. “Oh, my hair must be a mess.”

“You’re alright,” Diego said, and he cleared his throat. She could feel the rumble, vibrating under her fingers. “I can help you with it, if you’d like.” 

Another lurch of feeling— had the magnet damaged something internal? She should have been running diagnostics, not just staring into his eyes. “I’d like that,” she said. “But would you like to eat dinner first?”

“You’re not… you’re injured, Mom,” Diego said, as he kept sewing her up. He was looking at her face, but his eyes would dart down to her breasts occasionally, then back up to her face. “I can’t ask you to make me dinner.”

“I made dinner already,” she said. One of her hands went to cover his, and she squeezed it. 

“Well,” he said, “in that case, I’d be happy to help.” He squeezed her fingers, and she couldn’t read the look on his face. 

She liked that she didn’t know. She liked the residual giddiness that magnet had left her with, the langor in her limbs and the contentment deep inside the base of her torso. She was tired, and that was a new one. She _liked_ being tired. She’d have to neaten up Diego’s stitches, fix her hair, go warm up dinner, go do all the millions of little things that were vital to the household running but nobody noticed. 

This moment, though, with his sticky cheek against her palm and his hands gentle as they sewed her up… that was more important. Vastly more important.

**Author's Note:**

> A million points to anyone who gets the title reference!


End file.
